Spellbound
by Iymea
Summary: "It wasn't until I was standing in the centre of a circle of odd looking men with sticks pointed at my head, that I realised: coming to England probably wasn't one of my greatest ideas."
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Danny Phantom or Harry Potter.

Chapter One

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It wasn't until I was standing in the centre of a circle of odd looking men with sticks pointed at my head, that I realised: coming to England probably wasn't one of my greatest ideas. I mean, sure, I'd done some pretty stupid things. For starters: jumping into a metal doorway built by my ghost hunter parents to form a portal to the ghost zone. Thanks to that wonderful exploration, I now happen to be half ghost. I mean OK, the ability to fly is awesome, the ghost rays are cool and yes, I do rather enjoy kicking the butts of any and every ghost that threatens my home town. Missing the majority of school due to my secret ghost fights and getting grounded daily for missing my curfew (Again – blame the ghost fights), however, sucked beyond measure.

And then of course you have the usual; stealing the Fright Knight's sword; using the Fenton Ghostcatcher to split myself in half; going back in time to stop Vlad from getting his ghost powers, OK the list goes on. This however, surprisingly appeared to be the worst.

Right. Yes. Why was I in England? Well, it was pretty simple really. Skulker had said something stupid like: 'I could track you anywhere in the world' and I'd taken up the challenge. Like I said, stupid. That's how Sam and Tuck saw it too and it took an awful lot of begging to get them onside. Eventually we all agreed to let Tucker work some of his techo-geek magic. Ask anyone in Amity Park, and I'm on some 'astronaut experience' thing in Florida. So yes. I was lying to pretty much everyone, all so that I could return to Amity Park and rub my victory in Skulker's big metal face. I didn't believe for a second that he'd find me all the way out here.

I took a quick look around the circle at these funnily dressed people (ironic for me to say - I know – what with me wearing a black and white jumpsuit at the time). I counted eight. Six men and two women. Normally I wouldn't have freaked out. I'd had a bunch of ghost hunters surrounding me in ghost form for crying out loud. It was just the way they looked. They were all so much taller than me (admittedly, that wasn't hard) and had this ruthless look to their faces that you'd expect to see on a lion wrestler, or whatever. They were all dressed in these brightly coloured cloaks that looked really out of place in this bleak and grey street. Then of course, we come back to the sticks.

One of the guys, slightly more muscular than all the others, stepped forward. The circle was so tight that as he did so, the wonky stick he held in his hand was only about three centimetres away from my eyes. He had it pointed pretty central so I had to go cross-eyed to see the tip of it. For a second I thought he was planning on blinding me.

"Can I see your licence, please?" the guy asked, his expression blank of any emotion. What was he on about? I frowned.

"Licence...?"

"Yes. Licence. You do have one, don't you?" He raised an eyebrow. I didn't say anything back. Sam had spent hours drilling into my head English law and customs. Apparently she'd done something on it for school last year. They weren't actually that different to ours in Amity Park. In all of that time she had not once mentioned any sort of licence. The man rolled his eyes. "Okay then. Where is your wizard?"

Was this guy crazy or something? Then I realised. The cloaks, the sticks, the insane warrior faces. These guys were in some kind of cult. They had to be. I took a shaky step back but didn't get very far due to another stick jabbing into my backpack.

"Wow. Erm. Listen. Guys, I'm not quite sure what is going on here but... Oh wow, is that the time? Well, I better be off then. If you'll just..." I made an awkward 'get out of the way' motion with my hands. It was kind of obvious that I was bluffing on the time thing; I don't wear watches. I hoped though, that these creeps would get the message and kindly leave me alone. No such luck.

"No licence, no wizard. You're in quite a bit of bother, boy. Magical law states that any foreign magical creature visiting the country must be accompanied by a wizard or be in possession of a magical licence." The man looked me up and down with this huge disapproving glare. I blinked.

"Magical ___what?_" Did he just say 'magical creature'? OK, not to burst anyone's bubble but I am no magical creature. I am completely human! Well... half human... But I was pretty sure that ghosts weren't in anyway magical. Everything about me can be explained by science... I think... Anyway, what right did these creeps have chasing me down and accusing me of breaking their rules? As far as I could tell, they had no idea what I was. If they knew, it wouldn't be sticks they were pointing at me - it'd be ecto-weapons. So they were guessing. Advantage point to me.

"Hawthorn!" I jumped as this new voice appeared out of nowhere. I took a quick glance around the circle, trying to pinpoint who had spoken. For some unknown reason, all eight fashion freaks looked up. I followed their gaze.

___Jeez_. What in the world...? Hovering a few metres above our heads was a rather thin, raggedy looking man with thick flowing orange hair. With a bright green cloak and even brighter green eyes, the man looked like some sort of eccentric tropical bird. What stopped my breath however, was the fact that the man was sat upon a ___flying_ broomstick. I couldn't help but think back to my rather painful trip back in time to the Salem Witch Trials. Didn't those 'real' witches supposedly ride on enchanted brooms?

"What is it now, Matthews?" The guy in charge, Hawthorn I guessed, growled. Well at least his growl wasn't just designed specially for me. The man in the sky flinched slightly at Hawthorn's tone.

"It's Diggory, sir. He says he needs you back at headquarters. Something about a troll exposure." Matthews' eyes fell on me for a moment and he frowned. He was probably wondering why eight burly figures were holding me at stick point. Then again, I was kind of still wondering that myself. Hawthorn grunted and picked something up off of the ground behind him. Oh, well look at that. Turns out he had a broomstick too. I looked around the circle and realised to my shock and horror, that all of these crazy, stick holding, cloak wearing weirdos, had a broom rested on the ground by their feet. Well this day just got better and better.

"Take him." Hawthorn ordered to one of the men behind me. Before I could fully understand what was going on, my hands were pinned behind my back and I was being dragged backwards. Not cool. I twisted as best I could to see what was going on, although I had a feeling that I knew already. Sure enough, the man holding me was making his way to his broom.

Okay, so anyone who knows me, knows that I have no issues with flying whatsoever. I'm half-ghost, it comes with the job. What I do have an issue with however, is being carried by some guy I've never met, onto a broomstick, headed to I have no idea where. So, naturally, my self defence kicked in. Taking a deep breath, I turned my arms intangible and pulled myself out of my captor's grip. Not pausing for a moment, I passed through him and out of the circle, taking to the air.

It wasn't long before I heard the cries of pursuit. As I listened, I could tell that, despite Matthews' desperate attempts to get Hawthorn to leave me, the leader had decided that I was more important than some troll exposure... Whatever that meant.

Lucky me.

At this point, I didn't really have an objective. ___Get the heck out of here_ was just about the only thing that filled my mind. Understandable really, when you think about it. If I were in human form, I'd probably have been able to use the whole 'I'm completely innocent, no magic going on here.' thing but due to my complete stupidity, when I'd landed in this small run-down village in the north of England, I'd assumed that, in ghost form, I'd be that little bit safer. If some random stranger came hurtling towards me with a sledge hammer I could easily turn intangible and fly away. Simple.

What I hadn't expected was to be ambushed by a load of flashing sticks. You see, when it'd happened, I'd been caught a little off guard... I say that, I had actually just phased out of someone's house after using their surprisingly ornate toilet. Trust me. Running into a bunch of stick wielding weirdos after emptying your bladder isn't as glamorous as it sounds. Things weren't really going the way that I had planned.

I was quite surprised when I glanced behind me and saw the eight lion-wrestlers catching up with me. I'm not one to brag or anything but I'm a pretty darn fast flyer when I put my mind to it and now was one of those times. I began to wonder if I was in the right line of gadgets. Determined not to be shown up by strips of wood, I veered sharply to the left into a thin alleyway. If I was lucky, the tight space might make broom-flying more difficult. I was rather rewarded when I heard a few cries of pain followed by the clattering of brooms falling onto the ground. Oh the benefits of being a slim fifteen-year-old.

My mood was quickly diminished when I felt something brush against my leg. Chancing a glance behind me, I saw an almost youthful looking woman reaching out for me from over her broom. Her fingers were literally centimetres away from my ankle. I quickly pulled up my leg in a way that looked as though I was imitating Superman. Looking ahead, I saw the end of the alley. Finally.

"Come on! Faster!" I murmured to myself aloud. I tried stretching my arms out harder, hoping that the extra push would speed me up. It didn't. I could hear the woman's breathing behind me and panicked. Working more on instincts than anything else, I swung myself around and shot a small ecto-blast at the tip of her broomstick. The woman was taken by surprise and swayed uncertainly for a second before toppling off her sliver of wood. I spotted two men behind her. Hawthorn wasn't there. I was kind of hoping that he was one of those that had fallen off when I'd moved into the alley. Taking a steadying breath, I turned again and continued top speed to the exit.

It seemed the loss of their co-worker had put the other two on edge as they began to shout at me. Trivial things such as 'Give up now!' and 'We're going to catch you eventually'. It was all a little too cliché for my liking, so I ignored them completely. Thankfully, in my ghost form, I don't get worn out too easily. I could keep this chase up for at least an hour and still be up for a ghost fight afterwards. I kind of wished some of that stamina would transfer into my human half but life doesn't really work like that. It wasn't until I reached the end of the alleyway that I realised my luck was running out. It seemed that somehow, a very smug looking Hawthorn and two of his men had managed to get to the end before me and block off the exit. I wondered if, as well as flying, these people could teleport. For some reason, I was more ticked off by the idea that they could teleport and I couldn't, than the fact that I appeared trapped.

But come on. I'm not completely stupid.

Glancing back and forth between the men behind me and the men in front of me, I turned invisible. Oh, if I could have taken a picture at that moment. Hawthorn's smug smirk drooped and moulded into a deadly scowl. I watched silently as the rest of the men began to look around, wide eyed and frantic for any sign of me.

"Erm... Hawthorn... I think he, er... got away," one of the men, a middle aged guy with thinning brown hair, announced shakily. The look he got from Hawthorn was enough to chill the blood of the toughest man. The man who'd spoken appeared rather close to fainting, which for a guy with as much muscle as him was rather impressive.

Deciding I'd better not stick around to catch the rest of the conversation, I phased through the wall behind me.

Careful to stay invisible (I didn't want to scare any old ladies or anything), I turned and made my way through a very pink living room.

I'll admit, I didn't really know what to think at this point. If I were in human form right now, my heart would have been racing like an Olympic athlete. What I really wanted to know was how a bunch of burly, hooded, sci-fi fanatics had managed to get their hands on flying broomsticks and glowing twigs. Also, how in the world had they known I was even here? My immediate thought was that they were ghost hunters but that just didn't add up. Why would they have called me a 'magical creature' if that were the case. They could, of course, just have been some random crazies with abilities and had just happened to stumble across me. That didn't seem to fit either.

So what was it?

I didn't really get to ponder on it long before a loud screeching noise broke off all possible thought. I gasped and pressed my hands against my ears, trying to dull the noise. I couldn't tell where it was coming from or how to stop it, I just knew that if it didn't stop soon, I could pretty much say goodbye to my hearing.

Without fully understanding what I was doing, I shot out through the ceiling of the building. I had to get away from that deathly squeal. Unfortunately it appeared that that was exactly what those robed pursuers had expected as I flew straight into one of them. Instantly, I felt a strong arm wrap around my torso but I couldn't concentrate on it. The noise was too loud.

If I'd have been thinking straight, I would probably have wondered why the sound was seemingly only audible to me. It didn't seem to affect the broomstick riders.

I thrashed around in my captors grip, admittedly more to get away from the noise than from him. His grip tightened ever so slightly.

Big mistake.

The action threw my defence mechanisms into overdrive. Within seconds, I'd managed to bring my knee up and wind the man, causing his grip to loosen before shooting him straight on with an ecto-blast which sent him somersaulting backwards so that he collided with a chimney.

The small part of me that was still functioning normally panged in concern, but instead of going over and checking if the guy was all right, I felt myself flying off again. I couldn't even think about the flying crazies close on my tail.

Desperation had given me the extra boost needed to catapult me ahead of my pursuers. I tried to ignore the slight blurring of my vision as the noise assaulted each of my senses in turn. As quick as a flash, I shot around one of the houses and dropped my hold over my ghost half. My black and white jumpsuit morphed into baggy jeans and a red and white top. My pure white hair transformed into black and I could feel the glow from my previously green eyes dim as they become bright blue. All of this happened before I hit the floor. My knee jolted painfully as it impacted with the concrete but other than that I was fine. Gasping, I slowly lifted my hand to my forehead.

The sound had stopped.

A second later, five figures shot above me, coloured capes billowing in their wake. Breathing a sigh of relief, I sat back against the wall and pulled up my right trouser leg. Now, if anyone has ever seen a dislocated knee cap, they know that it is not the most pleasant thing to look at and this time wasn't an exception. The cap jutted out to the side and the darn thing had already started bruising (side effect of speedy healing).

Now this is the part where I say; don't try this at home. Seriously, dislocated anythings are best left to a doctor. I however, can't really afford that luxury. Taking a deep breath, I took a hold of the knee cap. I slammed my eyes shut before yanking the body part back into place. "_Gah_!"

Okay – falling from heights as a human is seriously not something that I would recommend. To anyone.

Brushing the pain-induced tears from my eyes, I shrugged off my backpack and pulled out a water bottle. One little break wouldn't do me any harm. I leant my head back against the brick wall behind me and gulped down a fraction of the liquid. My escape plan so far pretty much started and ended with: walk away. If I was lucky, I could just walk out of here and those flying weirdos would never even notice. After all, they had just flown right past me.

Trying to feel positive, I pulled myself up and stumbled in the direction that I had come – away from sticks and away from wacky, floating brooms. They couldn't hurt me in my human form, there had to be laws in England about that.

Despite the deep ache in my knee, the walk was rather therapeutic. The sound of my footsteps echoed slightly in the empty street, matching pace with my calming heart-beat.

I'm going to pretend that I didn't just sound like some lame poet then...

Hang on, that was a point. During this whole hellish cat and mouse chase, I hadn't seen a single bystander. This place was like some sort of ghost town... no pun intended. I took a quick glance around the street to confirm my suspicions. Sure enough, not even a dog walker or a pottering old lady was anywhere in sight. Did English people have some kind of aversion to sunlight or something?

I decided to push the thought to one side. Despite the fact that it was crazily eerie, it was probably just some random coincidence. Walking slowly beside the houses, I thought back to what Sam had told me just yesterday.

"_Look, the main thing to remember is that the English are exactly the same as us. Try not to make any bad jokes, don't mention anything ghost related or supernatural and you'll be fine. It's not like as soon as you get there a bunch of crazy ghost hunters are going to pounce on you and attack you with ghost weapons." _

Oh, the irony.

"Hey! You!"

I froze on the spot as a gruff voice called over to me from behind. As quickly as I dared, I turned to face the speaker.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," I murmured under my breath. Couldn't I get a moment's peace?

"What are you doing outside? I thought the whole town had been evacuated," Hawthorn growled, stomping his way towards me. Well, that answered one question.

"I must not have got the memo." Okay, why was I talking in a very _very _poor attempt at an English accent? Come on, this guy had accused my ghost half of being in the country illegally, I didn't need that on this side too. The man's scowl deepened. I couldn't help but wonder if that saying had come true for him (you know the one, 'If the wind changes, your face will stick that way' or something along those lines) possibly when he was about twelve... "Why is the whole town evacuated?"

"Flood warning. A dam a few miles away might over flow."

Now that was an obvious lie. The only reason this town had been evacuated was to cover up the fact that broom flying witch-wannabes decided that they were going to go on some sort of ghost hunt. I don't know how they managed to evacuate the whole town before I knew about it but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

Maybe these guys, the stalkers that they were, had somehow been tracking my ecto-signature or whatever whilst I was flying over England. Then they'd be able to predict when I was going to arrive here and allowed them to clear the place out and spring the trap.

I didn't for one second believe the 'dam' story.

"Oh, well... I guess I'd better be out of here then... Sorry for the confusion." Trying not to show off my nerves (come on, you'd be nervous too if you had some six-foot something weightlifter standing over you, looking at you as though you were fresh meat) I swiftly turned back around and continued walking away from Hawthorn. I really hoped that there was an exit to this town somewhere in this direction. I really hadn't been paying that much attention when I got here.

Hawthorn didn't say anything as I moved, though I could feel his hard gaze on the back of my skull. I'll repeat, English people are weird.

"Hang on."

I paused again, suddenly feeling rather irritated. "What now?"

"Where did you get that backpack?"

The backpack. Oh crud, how could I have forgotten about the backpack? The same backpack I'd been wearing when I'd been cornered before. How amateurish a mistake what that?

I offered the man a small nervous giggle (shut up) before making a break for it.

I'll be the first person to say that I am in no way a fit and healthy fourteen-year-old. Fitness just really isn't my thing but there are most certainly times in my life when I really wished it was. Hawthorn called out in pursuit and his pounding footsteps seemed to get closer by the second. I guess that had something to do with him being super-sized and me being... not so super-sized. Unfair advantage there, if you asked me.

_Come on legs, don't fail me now._ I took a sharp left into yet another alley, hoping that I could replicate that trick I did earlier when flying but Hawthorn just wouldn't be deterred. Attempting to pull on my ghost core to feed me some energy and perhaps some speed, I pulled out of the alleyway and continued down the next road. This place was seriously like some sort of maze.

I don't know what made me see it. Perhaps it was desperation or perhaps it was just luck. Whatever it was, I was momentarily grateful. I couldn't outrun Hawthorn in my human from, that much was evident, I had to find some way to change forms without the guy realising what was happening. So far as I knew, the backpack hadn't proved anything so my secret was still relatively safe.

So of course, when I saw the door to someone's house, slightly ajar, my heart leapt. Trying not to allow Hawthorn to gain any more ground on me, I added my last little reserve of energy into my sprint toward the open door. Thankfully, Hawthorn didn't appear to notice my escape route and merely continued to jog on, not once bringing out his stick (whatever that would have done).

I reached the house in less than a minute and burst through the door, slamming it shut behind me. Trying to catch my breath, I allowed my ghost form to take over, leaning heavily against the door in the hope that that may deter the older man. Of course all I was really doing was trying to buy myself some time. If these creeps had ghost sensors, it would only be a matter of time before the whole swarm was on top of me. Flying away wouldn't do me much good but what else could I do? Before I could think up an answer to that, the door I was leaning against swung open, throwing me across the room like some kind of plaything. I grunted in pain as my head impacted with a wall, causing stars to dance delicately in front of my eyes.

Groaning, I pulled myself up and turned to face Hawthorn who was glaring down at me full force.

Instantly I put an arm up in a surrendering motion. I was getting really tired of this running thing.

"Okay, okay, I give up," I gasped, clutching my stomach with my free arm to dull the stitch that had stuck around from my human half. "Can't we just talk about this?"

Hawthorn didn't say anything, making the more intimidating choice of slowly walking towards me, his stick pointing directly at me. I felt too tired to really concentrate on what I was doing but I was vaguely aware of my body sliding into a more defensive position. "I'll take that as I no." Slowly, I began to light up my hands, forming the ever warming energy for my ectoplasmic energy ball.

However, the ball had hardly started to form before Hawthorn murmured a few indistinguishable words under his breath. His stick lit up.

I fired the ectoblast at my pursuer full on in a desperate attempt to stop whatever the man was planning to do.

I was too late.

As soon as the light from Hawthorn's stick hit me, I could feel the hot tingle of the light, clawing at my skin. It took me a while to get a grip on what was actually happening. I tried to make a dash for it but it was too late. Unable to sustain the energy ball, the green orb died out before it could hit its target and reluctantly, I watched the world tilt. It seemed as though everything was happening in slow motion. My head hit the floor and I was forced to watch Hawthorn lift me onto his shoulders. I wanted to pull away; to run but I couldn't. I couldn't move at all and slowly but very surely, I watched my world go black.

Life really, really sucked sometimes.

* * *

AN: Hello and welcome to the edited/rewritten version of Spellbound! (Previously named 'Challenges') If you have read Diversity, you will know that as an author I like to ramble on... a lot... I recently decided that I should probably place my ramblings at the end where people can chose to completely ignore them with more ease - because I'm thoughtful like that :3

All righty! So this chapter has been proof-read but like always, if you see any mistakes, just point 'em out to me and I'll see what I can do about them. The official update date for the second chapter is the 1st of August. From there I am going to _try_ to make my updates fairly regular but as I am in my last year of sixth-form education in September, I can't make any promises.

Hopefully, I have covered all the brilliant points you put across on the preview and Danny seemed slightly more competent ;)

I think that's all I really wanted to say - my brain is telling me that it needs sleep so I feel that I should probably comply...

Check out my facebook page 'Iymea - Fanfiction Writer' for any updates on my fanfic progress!

See you in August!

~Mea


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Danny Phantom or Harry Potter.

Chapter Two

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The first thing I was aware of when I woke up, was pain. Not the kind of pain induced from any type of torture, more the pain that comes after drinking too much eggnog at Christmas (something I will not be doing again any time soon).

There is something distinctly unimpressive about waking up in a darkened room with a misty mind, afraid to move in case you vomit all over yourself. Attempting to blink away the fuzziness in my head, I stared blankly at the ceiling above me. As far as I could tell, I was in some sort of dungeon area, you know, like you get in those fantasy historical films you see on TV? The tiny barred window seemingly miles above me, threw bright beams of light across the stone walls; the only light source in this cylindrical room of confinement. I mean, sure, there was a door (how else would my captors have gotten me in here?) but no light came from the other side of it.

I couldn't exactly say how long I'd been in there. From the cold ache in my bones, I'd say at least a few hours. When I'd been knocked out, it had been around about ten in the morning, so, I was guessing it was now reaching about three... don't ask me how I got to that conclusion – something about the angle that the light outside was hitting the walls within my prison... complicated stuff. Whatever my captors had hit me with, it had been pretty strong stuff. I mean _really_ strong. My ghost half normally burned out any kind of pollution within my body within a matter of minutes.

Eventually, I decided that I might as well _try_ to get out of this brick cage. Drowsily, I pulled myself up, slowly noticing that I was on some kind of ledge jutting out from one side of the circular room. I draped my legs over the side of the ledge, bending over slightly to stop the head rush that was already threatening to black me out again. Thinking back on it now, I'm rather glad that no one was watching; I must have looked a right state.

It was only when I took in my lightly illuminated knees that I realised that somehow, _miraculously_, I was still in ghost form. I raised a hand to my head pulling at the white strands of hair that danced around my forehead to further prove this to myself. All right. That was new.

Wondering if my human half might be slightly more clear headed, I called upon the familiar white rings to change me back.

Rephrase: I _tried_ to call upon them. Frowning, I tried again but with a similar result. Every time I felt the light, it seemed to pull away, unwilling to swap my forms. It was only then that I truly became frustrated. Since when couldn't I turn human? Tying to stay calm I stood and made my way to the door. My inability to change back was probably just some side effect of whatever I'd been hit with. It would probably wear off in no time. Slowly, I reached for the cool metal of the door handle.

I'll admit, I wasn't exactly _surprised_ when I realised said door was locked. It wasn't as though they were about to make it _that_ easy for me. Rolling my eyes, I turned myself intangible and made my way through the wooden door.

… Only to reappear on the other side of the exact same dungeon room.

"What?"

I hesitated slightly before making the trip backwards. Carefully, making sure to stay intangible, I walked backwards through the rounded wall behind me. Seconds later, I found myself inches away from the original wooden door. A quick glance around the room confirmed that I was still there.

Blinking, I walked back through the door and turned to find plain brick where I'd just phased.

This couldn't be normal...

Deciding to test this odd phenomenon further, I let myself drop through the floor. Sure enough, I found myself drifting down from the ceiling of the exact same dungeon room.

"Well... this is new..." I murmured, sitting back down and leaning my back against the phase-proof wall. I knew that I should probably be pretty freaked out by this point but I'm not entirely sure whether it was because I felt as though my brain was fighting to move through maple syrup, or I was genuinely impressed – that the first thought that come through my head was 'well played'.

You see, for most of the past two years, I've been kidnapped and hunted in more ways than I could even count. It all just loses it's originality, right? I mean, I'd fought super powerful ghosts such as Vlad Plasmius, Pariah Dark and even my evil alternative future self. I'd been the target of pretty much all of Amity Park's ghost hunters and even some more distant ones. It took a lot to impress me and yet here I was, trapped by a bunch of nut jobs on flying broomsticks armed only with a set of flimsy looking twigs, in a medieval dungeon where flying through a wall merely shot you straight back where you started. Yes. I guess I was, in some way, congratulating them.

Of course, I wasn't going to let them win. As soon as I saw an escape route, I was going to dive for it. However, I did have a complete week to waste, and if this place came with food, it might not hurt to stick around a little longer.

I couldn't really say how long I spent, sat on that bench, musing over life in general. I might have dozed off once or twice but I do know that, by the time I heard the murmurings of an approaching conversation, my head had almost completely cleared, and I no longer felt like vomiting over anything.

"_I thought I made my position rather clear last night, Dumbledore. Our department doesn't take in strays," _whispered a male voice. I blinked, wondering if they were talking about me. Being called a 'stray' wasn't something that I was comfortable or happy with.

"_Yes, you did. However, I feel that I must remind you that you came here for aid and I am trying to give it to you." _This voice was distinctly older and more powerful than the previous. It was by this point I was wondering what the heck to do. Should I just pretend to be asleep so that I could eavesdrop on the conversation for a little longer? Should I just sit and wait for them to walk in and hope to make a good first impression or should I just let caution go to the wind and just be my naturally sarcastic self?

It was only as these thoughts breezed through my head that the door drifted open. The reaction of my visitor's wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting...

"Where did he go?" the smaller, ruddy faced man asked, scratching his head in confusion. I blinked, also confused before looking down at myself.

Oh... yeah... I'd completely forgotten about the challenge I'd set myself about an hour ago to see how long I could stay invisible. Turns out I'm much better at it than I'd thought. Well, there went my award winning first impression.

Equipping myself with the most winning smile I could force on my face, I allowed my invisibility to drop, causing that ruddy faced guy I mentioned, to jump in surprise. Within seconds he'd pulled out his own stick and was shakily pointing it at my head.

I'll admit, I laughed a little at that. "Whoa, chill dude. You look like you've seen a ghost." Okay, this time I can officially say: pun intended. I couldn't help it. Golden opportunity and all that. Stubble at the other end of the room however, did not seem to share in my sense of humour. He stopped shaking but his twig never moved position. It was to be expected, I guess. I mean, if the only thing I had to defend myself against... myself was a stick, I'd be pointing it too.

"Dumbledore... he's awake," the man murmured, shakily.

"I can see that."

"Why is he awake? He shouldn't be awake! Nothing about him should even be remotely awake."

"Maybe Hawthorn miscalculated his sedative spell?"

I sighed, attempting to ignore the fact that my presence seemed to have been completely forgotten within the past few seconds. Trying to occupy myself, I let my gaze fall on the other speaker.

Okay... now I don't mean any disrespect when I say this but, wow that guy looked _old_. His age was etched all over his body, in the white/grey facial hair that stretched all the way down to his belt, in the way his face crinkled when he smiled (which for some reason, he was doing) and in the way that he stood. I don't mean that he was hunched over, like those oldies you see in the old folks homes. It was the complete opposite actually. The way that he held himself – it was almost like he was the most important man in existence, all knowing and extremely wise... in fact... I couldn't help but compare him to Clockwork... There was that same look in his eyes... like... no matter how old he looked on the outside, there was still that deep inner child that was constantly yearning to get out.

"Hello. It's Danny, right?" the old man asked, effectively cutting Stubble's rant short. The shorter man huffed, indignantly before fixing his gaze back on me.

I blinked.

"... _How_ exactly do you know that?"

"It was printed on your bag."

Almost instantly, I remembered the thick black scrawl on the top of my backpack. Whilst trying to take her mind off of the bright pink bow her parents had somehow managed to pin to her skull, Sam had taken to writing 'Danny' in as many cool and fantastical ways as she could and had decided to scribble her favourite onto my bag.

"Right... forgot about that." I scratched the back of my head sheepishly before attempting to regain my chilled persona. "And you are...?"

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the headteacher here." Dumbledore nodded slightly as though willing me to accept this information. I narrowed my eyes.

"Headteacher? As in... like a _school_ headteacher?" What in the world would a school headteacher be doing talking to _me_?

"Exactly like that, yes." He smiled and folded his hands behind his back. "This is Amos Diggory. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and is in charge of your case." Dumbledore gestured at Stubble with his head.

"Yes! That's exactly right, so don't you go trying anything funny!" Stubble squeaked, waving his stick severely. _This_ guy was in charge of my case?

"I'm doomed," I murmured. Well, I would be doomed if I planned on sticking around long enough to _be_ doomed.

"What was that?" the ruddy faced man asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes at me.

I held my hands up innocently, flashing him by best innocent eyes. "I didn't say anything."

"So, Amos. Still think he is a threat to society?" Dumbledore asked, looking over at his company in this fairly condescending way. Amos blinked and then put his stick away.

"All right, listen. Hawthorn is one of our best chaps and he seems to think there is something rather queasy about this fellow." His eyes travelled over me once more, as though I were something he'd found on the bottom of his boot. I winked back at him.

"Yes, but I would have thought that, almost being bested by his target would effect the good man's opinion somewhat. Perhaps he's not the best person to ask right now," the older man stated, his voice calm but his eyes challenging. Stubble sighed, scratching at his ruddy stubbliness.

"Yes, all right, bias and all that, I know... Still, I'm not entirely convinced. He did, after all, knock out half of an arrest party."

"Okay, firstly – I'm right here," I spoke up, not liking the direction this was heading in. "And secondly, in my defence, usually when I'm surrounded by a bunch of lethal looking people, they're ghost hunters out to experiment on me. Trying to get away is just a natural reflex." I shrugged, nonchalantly.

"Hang on there... did you just say 'ghost hunters'?" Stubble asked, looking at me with a confused expression on his face.

"Well, yeah... You know... because I'm a ghost?" To further demonstrate the point, I rose into the air, taking up something resembling a half-hearted 'ta-da' pose. Seriously? How could they not have figured that out by now. Invisibility and intangibility were some pretty big hints. There was a long pause in which Stubble just stood, staring at me. Dumbledore looked more curious than anything.

"No you're not," denied Stubble finally.

"Yes I am," I argued back. Okay, insulting my attitude is fine, appearance I can deal with... but suggesting that I don't even know what I am? There's a line.

"But you can't be! I deal with ghosts every day and they're nothing like you."

"I think what Mr Diggory is trying to say is that we've never seen a ghost of your type before. It seems rather unlikely that you fit into the same category as what we're used to." Dumbledore interrupted, obviously trying to break up the possibility of conflict between Stubble and I. Nice to know someone was fighting my corner. I hesitated, thinking through the older man's words. I'd never met any ghost that wasn't the same as my Phantom half. Sure, Skulker was really a blob in a big metal suit and, sure Frostbite was a yeti but... surely the differences weren't that big?

"Well... what kind of dead people are you used to, then?"

"The ghosts we know of are spirits of dead wizards and witches who chose to stay behind in the world of the living rather than crossover onto the other side. The powers that you displayed earlier today, such as a... green ray of light? … and the fact that you appear to be fully corporeal, those are things that our usual type of ghosts don't have."

Okay, I was going to pretend that I knew what 'corporeal' meant.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait... Witches and wizards? I don't want to seem like a buzz kill or anything but... They're just myths along with unicorns and fairies and other 'magical creatures', no offence."

There was another long pause before Dumbledore cracked another smile. "You know, Amos. I think we have ourselves a muggle ghost," he announced lightly, causing Stubble to frown.

"No, that's impossible," the shorter man mumbled, "There is no such thing!"

"A _what_ ghost?" I asked, suddenly very confused. What the heck was a 'muggle'?

"Muggle – it is what we call non-magical folk." Oh yes, because that made complete sense.

"You? Wait... you mean... you're wizards?" Okay, it was official; I was losing it. Magic was a scientific impossibility – it didn't exist. It _couldn't _exist. I mean, sure, ghosts were a pretty big stretch of the imagination but... well magic was something else entirely. Wasn't it?

Come to think of it... it kind of made sense, what with the broomsticks and the hand held twigs... what would they call them? Wands?

"Yes. We are." Dumbledore's smile never left his face which somehow served to batter my brain even more.

I grasped at the hairs at the back of my neck, trying to ignore my impending headache. This couldn't be happening.

"Dumbledore, you're forgetting one major thing. Magic doesn't work on ghosts."

"Ah, yes. But young Danny here is not your stereotypical ghost, quite obviously."

That caught my attention... 'Magic doesn't work on ghosts'. I thought back to when I'd tried to change back into my human half. If these guys were telling the truth (I wasn't quite willing to completely believe just yet) then... what if the 'spell' hadn't worked on my ghost half... well not to it's full extent at least, and yet it _had _worked on my human half.

"That 'sedative spell'... or whatever you called it..." I started, interrupting the cool tempered debate on the other side of the minute room. "How long is it supposed to last?"

There was a moment of silence as both of the men let his question sink in.

"A week," Stubble answered eventually, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. "Why?"

I hesitated before responding. "All right... How about this? I will try to accept the idea of magic, if you consider my being a ghost."

Stubble blinked before shaking his head. "That still doesn't change the fact that you were effected by magic."

I sighed, trying to think of a way to describe my theory... _without _describing my theory...

"Okay... So... you said magic doesn't work on ghosts... But since I'm - what did you say? - more 'corporeal' than the ghosts you're used to, maybe your 'magic' has a slightly more increased effect on me?" Meh, it worked for now. I couldn't exactly say that I thought it was all down to the fact that I'm only _half_ ghost.

"That sounds rather reasonable to me," Dumbledore stated, glancing over at the smaller man. Stubble spluttered slightly before regaining something of his posture.

"Well... all right. It's a bit of a stretch of the imagination but I think I can learn to live with it," he answered eventually, folding his arms importantly. I rolled my eyes.

"Awesome. So, where do we go from here?" I asked, tapping my foot impatiently. Why did I feel I was more in charge of this discussion than the supposed 'head of my case'?

"Mr Diggory?"

The ruddy faced man paled slightly as all eyes were on him to make a decision. "Well there's not that much that we _can_ do, what with America unwilling to take you back..."

"Wait... what?" I blinked, unsure if I'd just heard right... Stubble paused, glancing me over before sighing.

"Whenever a foreign magical creature comes into the country, our first port of call is to contact the department regarding magical creatures in their own country. Normally, the country – in this case America, will send over a representative to collect said creature. Since you're not registered in America, from what we can tell, the department isn't willing to pay the cost of registering you and giving you a licence. So we're stuck." The man scratched his chin as he spoke, the sound resonating through the room. I shook my head.

"Okay... so you're telling me that I can't go home, because my country just doesn't _feel like_ spending a little bit of cash?" Yes, I could maybe have been a little more calm over the matter but... Well, have _you_ ever been basically _disowned_ by your _own _country? Let me tell you, it stings more than just a little bit. I don't know, I fight to protect the country for over a year and this is the kind of thanks I got? Well, I'd most definitely think twice before helping them out any time soon.

"That's exactly what I am telling you, kiddo," Stubble huffed. "Our options are limited. What we would normally do with creatures incapable of active thoughts and communication would be to place them in a family or with a trainer but... Well, it's not very often we get stray communicative creatures such as yourself wandering around – not without a licence anyway."

"All right... so what would you normally do with 'stray communicative creatures'?" I asked, somewhat impatiently. Part of me felt like just never returning to America to spite it for its betrayal of me – If it didn't want me, I didn't want it. Of course I couldn't do that due to family back home but it was still tempting.

"Well... that depends. If you were dangerous, you'd be locked away for a while until we could deport you somewhere... if you weren't, you'd become registered as a British creature and would be granted a licence to live out your life as you pleased, abiding by Magical Law, that is..."

"... I don't see the problem... I'm not gonna _hurt_ anyone."

"Well, yes – I can see that you probably wouldn't, but the board certainly aren't going to take my word for it, especially after Hawthorn's statement of events," Stubble groaned, folding his arms again as though irritated by his position. I knew the feeling. Frowning, I leaned against the brick wall behind me

… This was ridiculous but for once, I couldn't blame the ruddy faced man – at least he'd heard me out. There was a long silence in which all three of us sank into our own thoughts. I could tell you what I was thinking at that exact moment but somehow, I don't think you'd appreciate it all that much. It was Dumbledore that finally spoke up.

"Why do you not just mix the regulations around a tiny bit?"

"What do you mean?" Stubble asked, irritably. Obviously he didn't like being told how to do his job.

"You say that you would usually place an unintelligible creature with a family, do you not? Well then – why can't young Danny here, stay at Hogwarts? He could stay for a month to prove to the board that he is of no danger to anyone and of course, then he would be eligible for a licence and he could freely fly back home."

Stay _where_? For _how_ long?

"... That might actually just work," Stubble agreed slowly, an awkward smile appearing on his ruddy face.

"When you say a month..." I murmured, breathlessly. I'd arranged to be away for a week – two at the most – not an entire _month_.

"I mean that you would be allowed to leave on the first of November, with a licence allowing you to come back into the country whenever you please," Dumbledore responded in his 'reasonable' voice. The first of November? That was like... after Halloween. How on earth was I going to get away with missing _that_ holiday? It was like _the_ family day – I'd only managed to get out of family time last year because I was being made to do the haunted house for Lancer... Yeah, let's not go there...

"You know – I think you're onto something there, old chap. I'll have a talk with my supervisors this afternoon but I can't see that it will be much of a problem. They'll probably just say that Danny mustn't interact with the students and that'll be that. Problem sorted." Stubble nodded as he spoke, looking more taken with the idea every second.

"Okay, whatever," I started, unable to deal with the thoughts pressing down on my skull. "Does that mean I can leave this room, because the lack of sunlight in here is really driving me crazy." I wasn't lying. That tiny barred window seemingly miles above me was hardly anything to look at. I certainly wasn't getting my much needed vitamin D.

"I cannot see a problem with that," Dumbledore stated, smiling that all knowing smile of his.

"Hmm... yes. I'll have to spread the containment spell to cover the castle grounds though – I don't think I'd keep my job very long if you went flying off." Stubble rubbed his chin thoughtfully before nodding and pulling out his stick..._ wand_. Quieter than I cared to hear, the man murmured a few words under his breath and the wand glowed slightly. "What's the plan then? I'm sure you're not going to horde the kiddo in your office."

I blinked – unsure of whether the ruddy faced man was trying to make some sort of joke.

"I'm sure Hagrid wouldn't mind having a little bit of company for a while. There is plenty of room for the both of them in his house."

Okay, pause. What kind of name was 'Hagrid'? It sounded like the kind of name you give to the gristle you get in a steak or pork chop.

"Well, if you're sure." Stubble nodded slowly before idly patting his stomach. "Right, well I'd best be off to sort things out." He glanced over at me wearily as he said, "Stay out of trouble."

"Scouts honour," I grumbled back, watching as he left the room. "Dumbledore?"

"Yes?"

"Can I get that backpack back?"

The man grinned mischievously. "Of course. This way!"

With that, he walked out.

Sighing, I took one last look around the cursed dungeon before slowly following him out.

If I couldn't escape this place sooner, (and if the containment spell was what I thought it was, I probably couldn't – _still kind of impressed_) this was going to be a long month.

* * *

AN: Hey! This is finally an active fiction! *Wild whooping* Can I just say, I have BIG plans for this fiction... like HUGE (I planned out my final battle scene this morning and I am so kelping excited!)

A little background on this chapter - I literally only finished it this afternoon. 7 months this has taken me to perfect! (I'm sorry if it seems like a pretty cruddy chapter for such a long wait but I just really needed to introduce the plot of the story and this seemed to be the only way to effectively do that - introducing my_ 7th_ attempt at writing this darn second installment!) So yeah... I hope it lived up to some of your expectations. I don't want to promise anything too big but if all goes well, chapter 3 should be up before the end of August.

For anyone who hasn't read Diversity - my updating schedule is VERY unreliable. It could be weeks between updates or it could be months. Just a word of warning in advance - since this fiction is going to be a fudge of a lot longer than Diversity (I'm on chapter 18 after 2 years) you'll just have to be patient with me.

Anywho - that's all from me! If you haven't checked out the re-write of chapter 1, I would advise you glance it over - the first half is pretty much the same but the rest is _very_ different (and hopefully a lot better than before).

Oh! Before I forget - Danny is fifteen going on sixteen in this fiction! (No PP)

Thanks for reading!

~Mea


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